Final Reprieve
by White Eyebrow
Summary: Qui Plantavit Curabit. A Mercer one-shot. Season 3, Episode 3.5, Sunbowverse.


**Cobra Outpost Zeta - Gulf of Mexico**

Cobra Viper Felix Stratton tightened his grip on the barrel of his M4 carbine as he walked point through the dense tropical brush. The mosquitos were thirsty, but he resisted the urge swat at them blindly, focusing instead on negotiating the moonlit path with the help of the infrared optics built into his visor. He swung his weapon in the direction of rustling branches, lowering it only upon identifying the source of the disturbance: Officer Sheila McDermott.

She stumbled, and Stratton proffered his arm in support. "It took you long enough, McDermott."

"I'm going as fast as I can, Stratton." She brushed him aside, cradling the large bump in her belly.

He shouldered his weapon and resumed on point. "I thought you _Siegies _could handle anything?"

"Certainly more than you low rent Vipers."

"It's not too late to turn back," Stratton said. "Neither of us will be missed until the emperor's yacht comes by to pick you up in the morning." He smiled at her tacit rejoinder

They stopped at the edge of the tree line and knelt from their vantage point overlooking the pier. Stratton removed his helmet and peered into the ACOG mounted on his carbine. It provided a smaller field of vision than his visor, but it allowed him to see farther, all the way down to the row of Moray hydrofoils docked at the water's edge. He could see everything, including the various surveillance cameras fashioned into the effigies of birds native to the region—their red illuminated eyes telling of the inorganic nature of their construction.

McDermott retrieved a pair of binoculars from their provisions and surveyed the area alongside her viper companion. "What's the plan?"

"We're going to hotwire a Moray, of course."

"That's it?" She put her binoculars away. "That's your brilliant plan?"

"It's simple—"

"It's stupid," she snapped. "There's surveillance all over the place."

"Oh, ye of little faith." Stratton presented a small transceiver. Once again peering into the ACOG, he pushed the button on the device. The red eyes in the darkness dimmed. "Let's go."

"Felix, no!" She yelped when Stratton took her brusquely by the arm and led her to the pier. However, there was no alarm at their ingress. The sentry birds remained content, perched upon their electronic roosts. "What did you do?"

"I told them to take a nap," he replied aloofly. "Being a member of the emperor's royal guard has its advantages in regards to access to the island's security systems."

"Isn't someone bound to notice that all the cameras have shut down?"

"Not when the video stream is put on a continuous loop," he regarded her with a grin. "As you can see I thought of everything, Officer McDermott."

A veiled smile betrayed her concession. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Viper Stratton."

The two arrived at the pier and went to work to disable the hydrofoils—save for one, which they would use for their escape. Stratton helped McDermott climb inside the co-driver's seat. With some difficulty they managed to pull the seatbelt around her large belly, after which Stratton circled around and nimbly hopped into the pilot's seat. He removed the control panel.

"What are you doing?" McDermott asked. "That's not where the ignition couplers are located."

"I'm disabling the on board computer's satellite uplink. If they manage to track us, this is going to be a very short trip."

It wasn't long before they sped off into the night, leaving the small isle for the open sea. It was a calm night; there wasn't a soul to be seen clear to the horizon. The moon and starts, nestled high above the open waters, were their only traveling companions.

Freedom.

It was here that Stratton felt it was safe enough to cut the ship's engine. The Moray drifted to a halt.

"Why are we stopping, Viper Stratton?"

"Without a satellite uplink, I have to check our position the old-fashioned way." He took out a nautical map of the region and laid it out across the dashboard.

McDermott held the flashlight, allowing Stratton to freely examine the map. She watched him mark their position on the map with a blue 'X'. Her eyes narrowed, however, upon observing their calculated proximity to the red 'X' labelled 'CVN-71', saying, "That looks like a hull code."

"You are correct," he said in answer. "That's the last known position of a Nimitz-class super carrier. They're out here doing pre-deployment work ups."

"You're taking us pretty close, don't you think?"

"It's risky, but it's also the reason why we haven't run into any Cobra patrols," Stratton replied casually. "As I told you, I've thought of everything."

McDermott rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I think our best chance for insertion is the wetlands of Louisiana. We can lose ourselves in its complex canal system."

"Agreed," Stratton said. He started to plot a new course when the ship's sonar pinged a large object just within scanning range.

"We have company," McDermott said. She adjusted the controls in order to get a better reading. "Three distinct objects are approaching on bearing Green-One-Seven-Zero.

"Yes, but their movement is erratic," Stratton pointed out. "It's probably a herd of whales."

"Pod."

"Pardon?"

"A group of whales is called a pod." She piped the sonar over the ship's speakers. Sure enough, they were treated to the soothing euphony of the whale's songs. She killed the torch, and was content to just listen in the darkness. "I can't believe we're actually out here."

"I have to admit it is… _liberating,"_ Stratton said. He joined her in gazing at the stars in the heavens.

McDermott gasped. "The baby's kicking! I think he's digging the music." She instinctively took Stratton's hand and placed it on her belly.

He flinched at the sensation. Her skin was warm, and he allowed himself to explore her roundness that encased this new life. She rested her hand on top of his, and Stratton was drawn to regard the former Crimson Guardswoman. Her countenance glowed with a brilliance that easily outshined the moon, even on a night as clear as this one.

And her smile….

"Sheila, I—"

In apprehension of the moment, McDermott averted her eyes, and she removed his hand. "You know, I always thought you were too smart to be a Cobra Viper."

Taken aback, Stratton shifted in his seat. He put the map away. "And I always thought you were too smart to be an emperor's concubine."

"I guess we've both made our fair share of mistakes." She turned the ship's speakers off. "At least I'm trying to correct mine."

"You got a point to make, Sheila?"

"I joined Cobra because I believed it was about something," she replied. "You, on the other hand, only believe in a pay check."

"If that's what you believe, then it must be true."

"Isn't it? The only reason you're here now is because of the reward my family's going to pay you to help me escape." She sighed and then whispered, "_If_ we manage to escape…."

Stratton curled his lip. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you _haven't_ thought of everything."

"I know." Crestfallen in realization, he met her gaze. "I'm going to get you home, Sheila. Do you still trust me?"

She snorted. "No."

"Smart girl." He slowly reached for the pistol holstered at his lapel. "You take out the one on starboard, and I'll take out the one on port."

McDermott nodded; her fingers were already gripped tightly around her Beretta. "When?"

"Now!"

They turned and fired:

_BLAM!_

_BLAM!_

Both rounds found their marks in the intruders that had snuck on board: two Cobra Eels were left bleeding on the deck from the entry holes in their face masks.

Stratton switched his visor to thermal vision, scanning the area for more unwelcomed guests. "Where the bloody hell did those sods come from?"

McDermott activated the control panel at her station by pressing the orange button. "Deploying depth charges." And two canisters ejected from the Moray's Y-gun.

"What the hell are you doing, woman?"

"Those weren't whales!" she replied. "Uhm, you might want get us out of here _before_ those mines explode."

With Stratton at the helm, the Moray sped off at full throttle. The ship reared back, causing the corpses to slide off the deck and into the water. Seconds later the depth charges exploded. The Moray stayed ahead of the crest of the shockwave, but the displaced water rained down on them from above. As the geyser settled, two objects broke the surface of the water and gave chase.

McDermott looked up from the rear view screen and cursed. "We're in trouble."

"From what?" Stratton replied, nonplussed. "There's nothing in Cobra's arsenal that's faster in the water than our Moray."

"Those weren't ordinary Eels we killed," McDermott replied. "They're called Lampreys."

"Never heard of them."

"They pilot _Sea Rays_—short range submersibles capable of mimicking sea life in order to evade sonar detection."

"Never heard of those either."

"That's because you're just a Viper!" she spat.

"Is playing rubbish whale songs all they can do?" In answer, Stratton looked to the rear view display. Their pursuers had taken to air. No longer bound to the sea, they started to close the distance. "Shit! That's just bloody wonderful!"

Stratton transferred to the gunner's station while McDermott manned the helm. At the flip of a switch, water wings descended from the Moray's keel, and she became foilborne, rising from the surface of the water to attain her maximum speed. However, one of the Sea Rays was already on top of them. Its passenger descended using the Sea Ray's glider section and landed on the Moray's forecastle.

"Felix!" Stratton couldn't hear McDermott's screams over the gun fire as his attention was focused on repelling the Sea Ray abaft. McDermott aimed her Beretta at the fast approaching intruder, but the stress of it all made her stomach cramp. She fired and missed.

The Lamprey swatted her gun aside and grabbed her by the neck. "You shouldn't take things that don't belong to you, breeder!"

"It's _my_ baby!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

The Lamprey tightened his grip. "Lord Serpentor disagrees."

"Lord Serpentor can go to hell!" She fought back to no avail. "FELIX!"

This time she was heard. Stratton dove into the Lamprey, and they tumbled over the ship's bow. Stratton managed to grab a hold of the anchor, dropping his pistol in the process. His feet skimmed the surface of the water as he struggled to pull himself up. The Lamprey was not so lucky; the Moray broke no stride at his peril, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

Stratton climbed back on board just as a second lamprey alighted at the Moray's stern. The Lamprey leveled his spear gun in Stratton's direction and pulled the trigger. The boat jostled, and the harpoon missed. Stratton sighed in relief and looked in gratitude to McDermott who manned the controls.

She smirked and righted the vessel. "Go get him!"

Stratton obeyed, and he rushed the Lamprey, who had already reloaded his spear gun. Stratton managed to grab the Lamprey's wrist just as the harpoon ejected from the spear gun, missing its mark once again.

The boat lurched.

Stratton sunk his fist into the Lampreys stomach, and he smashed his elbow into the side of his enemy's head, knocking his mask off. The Lamprey turned into Stratton's follow-up punch, and the Viper winced when his fist took the brunt of the Lamprey's SCUBA tank. A spinning back fist knocked Stratton flat on his back.

As Stratton rose to his feet, the Lamprey grabbed him from behind and lodged his forearm against the Viper's throat. Stratton struggled to pull himself free: if the Lamprey managed to complete his choke hold, it was all over.

The Lamprey sneered. "Was the bitch worth it, Stratton?"

The Lamprey's taunts prompted Stratton to look in McDermott's direction. He screamed her name when he saw her slumped against the steering wheel; the harpoon that had missed him had found another mark. He reached behind the head of the Lamprey and found the strength pull him over his shoulder. The choke hold broken, he wrapped his arm around his enemy's neck and cranked it as hard as he could. He did not stop until he heard something snap.

Stratton was at her side before the Lamprey's corpse hit the water. McDermott screamed when he pulled the harpoon out her back. He angrily threw it overboard.

She smiled weakly. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"It's just a little poke." He grimaced at the sight of the blood spurting from the wound, and he stuffed it with gauze from the first aid kit that he found under the seat. "Maintain the pressure here. You're going to be fine."

A hoarse laugh caused her to cough up a trickle of blood. "You suck at lying, Viper. No wonder you never rose through the ranks."

_She'll never make it to the coast_. Stratton turned the Moray hard to port and turned on the ship's shortwave.

McDermott settled in her seat now that Stratton had taken over the helm. "Wha-what are you doing?"

"Exercising the only option available." With one eye on their pursuers, Stratton turned the dial on the shortwave to the emergency broadcast frequency and spoke into the transceiver. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday: this is Cobra vessel Romeo-Zero-Niner, Cobra vessel Romeo-Zero-Niner, Cobra vessel Romeo-Zero-Niner reaching out to the US Naval warship answering to the call sign _Rough Rider_, do you copy?

He listened impatiently over the squelch for what seemed like an eternity. Bullets from above riddled the surrounding waters.

Finally, a voice broke through the static. He sounded young. "Rough Rider to Romeo-Zero-Niner: did you say that you're with Cobra? Over."

"Negative, Rough Rider, we are Cobra defectors seeking asylum. We're coming in hot on your Red-Two-Eight-Zero. We have two souls on board, one of whom is with child and in need of immediate medical attention. Over."

"Romeo-Zero-Niner, hold your position. If you continue to approach this vessel, you will be fired upon."

_Fuck!_ "Negative, Rough Rider, we are under fire by multiple hostiles. We formally request asylum pursuant to United Nations international law! Over!"

"Cobra vessel, asylum does not extend to members of terrorist organizations. I say again: turn back or you will be fired upon."

_I don't believe this!_ "Listen to me carefully, you simple prat. The woman on board is carrying Serpentor's unborn child. Now, I suggest you go tell that to your skipper. That way, he might deign to take a break from decorating the loo with his goo and get his sorry arse on the bridge... Over."

There was no reply other than static. Bullets shot around the cockpit—the Sea Rays were no longer pulling their punches. Stratton retracted the hydrofoils and the Moray's keel sunk into the water—trading off speed for maneuverability. He cut the wheel in order to circle around and flank their pursuers. He shouldered his carbine and aimed at the nearest Sea Ray. The bullets he fired had no effect.

The Sea Rays answered the ex-Viper's assault with a barrage of sabot rounds that tore into the Moray from bow to stern. The engine sputtered and died—they were dead in the water. The Sea Rays hovered in position, flanking the Moray on either side. Stratton slapped a fresh clip in his carbine.

With the last of her strength, McDermott held Stratton fast by his forearm. "Don't… they'll kill you."

"We're dead anyway." Stratton stood tall and shouldered his weapon, bearing down on the lead airship. He pulled the trigger; his gun fired, and to his surprise, the Sea Ray exploded. Stratton smiled and discarded his weapon, for it wasn't his carbine that saved them.

An F-18 Hornet flew past, followed by a deafening roar. Master of the sky, it came about and targeted the last Sea Ray with five of its remaining sidewinders. Outgunned, the Cobra hostile wisely retreated into the water's depths.

A skiff, dispatched from the USS Theodore Roosevelt, approached the fatally wounded Moray. Its driver's voice boomed over the bullhorn:

"COBRA VESSEL, STAND DOWN AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!"

Stratton quickly tended to McDermott, and he turned on the station lights. Her blood was all over the cockpit, and her lips were blue. He took her in his arms and stroked her blonde hair. She still glowed.

She opened her eyes at his touch. "Felix… I'm sorry—"

"Hush, Sheila, help is on way." She felt cold.

"RELEASE THE WOMAN AND GET YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, NOW!"

"Felix, my baby… do you think he knows that I love him?"

"Of course he does, silly cow."

"Will you tell him… that his mother loved him?"

"I will." Stratton wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I SAID STAND DOWN, COBRA SCUM!"

Two pairs of hands hoisted the ex-Viper out of the cockpit and slammed him on the deck of the bow. Stratton did not resist as the SEALs cuffed his hands behind his back. He never took his eyes off of her, nor she him.

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC OVER HERE NOW!"

Her chest stopped moving.

**USDB - Fort Leavenworth, Kansas**

The door to Stratton's cell opened and, he rose from his bunk. A guard entered and shackled the prisoner's hands and feet, although he left Stratton with sufficient slack to remain ambulatory. Stratton followed the guard to an interrogation room. The guard opened the door, and Stratton stepped inside; the door closed behind him.

This room was spacious in comparison to his cramped jail cell, so he took the opportunity to stretch his legs and explore the area, even though it was bare, save for a table in the center of the room. He eyed his reflection in the large mirror mounted on the wall and ran his fingers through his coarse beard.

The door opened, and Stratton arched an eyebrow at the entrant. The large man stood well over six feet tall, sporting a slight moustache and the squarest jaw the ex-Viper had ever seen. The service uniform and campaign hat tipped Stratton off that the man before him was a marine. During his service with Cobra, Stratton had seen this marine as an enemy on the battlefield, but never as close they are now. He was no less impressed.

"Felix P. Stratton, my name is Sergeant Slaughter, special drill instructor for G.I. Joe."

"Congratulations."

Slaughter set down his campaign hat but remained otherwise at ease from the other side of the table. "Your service record says that you served with distinction in the Falklands War under the Royal Marine Corps—"

"I didn't know you jarheads could read."

"So, why would someone like you join up with Cobra?"

Stratton shrugged. "They had a better dental plan."

"Then what was that joyride you took halfway across the Gulf of Mexico all about?"

"Maybe I have a fear of commitment, Sarge." Stratton continued to test him, probing Slaughter's armor for the slightest hint of weakness, and he was denied.

"I'm not somebody you want to piss off, Stratton. I suggest you start cooperating."

"Now you're starting to bore me."

"You got someplace better to be, hot shot? Or maybe you like just staring at your wrinkle sack for twenty-three hours a day in a four-by-nine?"

Stratton finally acquiesced and took a seat at the far end of the table.

Satisfied, Slaughter came straight to the point. "If you want out of here, the only way is through me. I specialize in turning dirt bags like you into perfection. Under my command I'll tell you when to sleep, what to eat and how many loaves to pinch."

Stratton chortled. "Substitute one prison for another? No thanks. Besides, I don't fight for free."

"In _my_ prison you get to shoot at Cobras. Who knows, you might even get a shot at the big bad snake, himself." Slaughter put his campaign hat back on. He took the extra time to adjust it in the mirror. "This offer has an expiration date; I suggest you sleep on it. You might still make it out of this a young man." He smiled. "_If_ you survive." With nothing more to say, Slaughter made his way to the exit.

Stratton curled his lip. "Sarge?" When Slaughter paused, Stratton continued, "The woman I came in with—Sheila McDermott…. What became of her?"

"What do you care, Hot Shot?"

"I don't. She… promised me a sum if I helped her to escape."

"Then she got her money's worth: she's worm food." Slaughter reached for the door handle.

"And the baby?"

The marine sneered in the ex-Cobra's direction. "Why? Do you expect the kid the cut you a check or something?"

Stratton did not respond, and Slaughter left. He closed the door and entered an adjacent room. Inside stood a stocky elder marine nursing a hot cup of joe. This marine, likewise dressed in a pristine service uniform, failed to acknowledge Slaughter's entrance, focusing instead on studying the prisoner through the one way mirror shared with the interrogation room.

Slaughter strode to the coffee machine. "How's the jamoke, Leatherneck?"

"It tastes like horse piss." This didn't stop Leatherneck from taking a sip.

"I'll have to take your word for that." Slaughter helped himself to a cup. "Were you watching the whole time?"

"Yep… and you're not gonna like what I have to say."

Slaughter stood next to Leatherneck, and both marines looked out into the interrogation room. Stratton had not moved a muscle since Slaughter's egress. "I'll live."

"He's a _rotten egg_—a stone cold opportunist." Leatherneck paused to take another sip. "And he's a fog breather to boot."

Slaughter snorted. "My _Renegades_ don't need to be polite. I just need to know if there's still a soldier in there."

Leatherneck finished the last of his coffee. "As long as a soldier believes in something—even if it's wrong—he can be turned to the light. But, this… _merc_ just told you in no uncertain terms that he cares for nothing and no one_._"

"Yes, he made it crystal clear that he doesn't care."

"So, what makes you think you can reach him?"

Slaughter finally regarded the older marine. "Because he's lying."

~The End~


End file.
